


Long May She Reign

by Kristin4ev



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Emotional Hurt, F/M, Ferelden (Dragon Age), Fluff, Humor, Kings & Queens, Royalty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2020-02-04 17:38:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18609322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kristin4ev/pseuds/Kristin4ev
Summary: The royal court does not deal in affairs of the heart.Elena Cousland was born and bred to be a noble woman. She is skilled at playing the games of Ferelden Politics. However when the man she loves is suddenly in line for the throne he never wanted, can she step aside and throw away what they have so he may rule alongside with a less-than-trustworthy queen? For the good for Ferelden? For the good of the Grey Wardens?This is a short novelization of the conversations between Cousland and Eamon, Anora, and Alistair in regard to marrying Alistair to Anora. I tried to keep my writing original and change some dialogue.





	1. Eamon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! This is a piece I've been working on and off on for the past few months. I'm still working on my main story "A Deer Among Wolves" but I do adore the Cousland/Alistair romance so I decided to give it a whirl. This will work will be short and its already 2/3 of the way written. I will try to post a chapter every week. I hope you all enjoy!

“Maybe Alistair should marry Anora,” the words just came out of her mouth without any thought of it. Being born of nobility, she saw people as pawns as opposed to well…people. Elena Cousland didn’t even consider her own feelings in the matter, she saw what tactically made sense. Who would deny Maric’s true born son with the rightful queen of Ferelden? It could be the strongest option in the entire landsmeet.

“Are you _serious_?” Alistair barked from his corner. He searched her face for tomfoolery and failed, “No! Never mind, I don’t even want to hear the rest of this! Y-you two just keep talking about me. I’m just going to stand over here with my fingers in my ears,” he pouted childishly. She rolled her eyes at him but saw Eamon hesitate a moment. Was the man truly considering her suggestion? Her feelings were catching up and she began to ache. This wasn’t about her though, it wasn’t even about them. It was for Ferelden. All Elena should care about is what was best for the wardens, even if Wynne had been right in the end, that she would give up Alistair to do it.

“Perhaps Alistair is right, shall we speak in private?” Eamon gestured to his quarters.

“Oh, _great_ , just fill each other’s heads with more brilliant ideas! No one worry about what I think!” he yelled after them. Elena shot him a glare. Surprisingly, he glared back, and it struck her heart how much he had grown up. Did her words get through to him all that time ago? To look out for himself?

Eamon guided Elena through the door with a hand on her back. What could she say after that? Politics were not for the faint of heart. She had always convinced herself that she would be married off at the right time and it sure seemed that way before the fall of her house. She fell for Alistair without trying, even after he told her the truth about his lineage. She didn’t see a king, only the man she loved. Feelings make everything so much worse, she thought grimly.

As the door shut, “Alistair marry Anora? That would certainly solve a lot of problems,” Elena didn’t face the arl, only wrapping her arms around herself. She would not dare shed tears in front of such a powerful man. “It would put forth one of the strongest arguments in the landsmeet to remove Loghain from power,” he echoed her thoughts, he continued, “with Theirin blood on the throne, and Anora’s wisdom on hand, Ferelden could stand the most united front against the blight.” Elena nodded because in truth, she did agree despite all that was screaming in her to not let it happen.

She realized he was waiting for her to respond, “Then I should convince them, shouldn’t I?” Her voice was small, not a tone she used often but the only one that could convey her feelings on the subject.

“Ah, but could you? I’ve seen the way Alistair looks at you,” he mused, “and vice versa.” Elena looked back to see the arl’s gentle eyes. It only made her want to curl in a ball, beg him to never mention it again.

“This is bigger than us,” she said quietly.

“Indeed, it is,” the arl agreed, “but I believe you didn’t consider the other option.”

Her eyebrow brushed up, “What other option? Alistair rules alone?” That worried her entirely too much. He didn’t know the first thing about being a noble, let alone a king! Anora knew how to rule, the people trusted her, why wouldn’t they let her rule?

“He may rule alone, especially if Anora is his only option as a queen,” Elena’s mouth thinned out, he doesn’t trust her and why should he? She’s the daughter of traitor and their alliance with her hung on a fine thread. If Elena had to push Alistair to marry someone else, it should be someone who the wardens can trust. Of course, Anora clearly did not think much of the wardens to begin with. While Alistair’s voice would create better matters for the order, Anora’s voice is just as powerful and if she had reason to distrust the wardens…she shuttered to think of what could happen. She put her head in her hands, what a mess.

“I…don’t know what to do,” she said through her fingers. Maker, she hated politics.

Eamon chuckled to her surprise and she lifted her gaze back up to him, “Anora is not the only possibility.”

“Who else? Who else could we possibly find?” she was frustrated by his ease. 

“We already found her,” he paused thoughtfully, as if expecting her to know what in the Void he was talking about, “you.”

Elena sputtered, “Me?” she yelped. Her? Queen? No, no, no, that was insane. She didn’t know the first thing about being a royal. She would be just as clueless as Alistair, maybe even more. Ferelden can handle one idiot on the throne, but two!? Her heart was still leaping at the idea and she mustered all her inner strength to beat down the hope that flourished inside. “I. I-I can’t be queen. I don’t know anything about ruling a kingdom, I- “

“Eventually you would have been wedded off to a Bann or Teryn, correct?” Eamon edged.

“Well yes, I was nearly promised to one of our family friend’s son, he was to become a Teryn,” a small plot of land was nothing compared to an entire kingdom though!

“You would learn to rule over people, make the decisions deemed fit for them, correct?” he continued.

“I suppose…” she trailed, “but I’m not Queen!”

“You know just as well as I do, the Cousland family is tightly knitted to the royal throne. It is quite possible. You would be performing the same duties as a Teryness, just…a little bigger.” Elena could have keeled over and puked at the very thought. She was educated to rule over a small land, not a _kingdom_.

She shook her head, “I—I can’t,” she tried to keep the shaking out of her voice, the stubborn and righteous logic forcing its way out, “Anora already _knows_ how to be a queen and she would help Alistair. Therefore, the Theirin bloodline would not die out on the throne.” The words hurt, Alistair continuing his royal lineage through Anora…bearing his children. A family. Despite it all for political gain, that wounded her.

But Elena knew the game of Ferelden politics, she knew dealings of the heart had no place in the royal court. “and I’m a _Grey Warden_ , I cannot bear children, and I have my order to attend to.” The excuses piled up and each time the logic ached. One grey warden on the throne was a huge blow numbers wise to the Ferelden order, but two?! There would be none left to lead! Eamon stood silently and nodded slowly. He seemed to turn over the idea in his mind.

His face softened, “I understand, my lady. I would not ask you to do this for I know of your duties. It was just a suggestion,” Elena let out a relieved breath. “If you believe that is what’s best…then do what you must to get them to agree.” Now Elena’s stomach churned at the notion. Convincing the queen wouldn’t be hard but convincing Alistair…oh Maker, she wished someone else would be able to do it for her. She would need to steel herself in a way she never had to with Alistair, push her heart behind herself, tell him he must do it without any remorse but with the utmost confidence.

Elena thanked the arl and took her leave. She did not look at Alistair when she passed him. The warden took her obligation in stride as she made her way down to the Queen’s quarters.


	2. Anora

Queen Anora was smart as a whip, charismatic, and beautiful. It made Elena feel exponentially smaller in comparison. Speaking to the queen as an equal as opposed to a ruler of her country was disorienting. She listened to Anora’s plight for Elena’s support for her throne. The more she spoke her defense, the more weight it added to her plan; it made sense. The kingdom _loved_ her, and she ruled for the most part. She kept Ferelden in one piece in the background of Cailin’s grandeur. Yet she remained humble but strong, the perfect ruler. Who was Elena to take all of that away?

Anora gazed patiently as the Warden turned over the very words that broke her heart, “Why not just marry Alistair?” it took everything to keep her voice even, heart hammering in her chest, “You’d get the best of both worlds.”

The queen appeared taken back and studied Elena’s features, she searched for any sign of trickery. After a few moments, she bit her lip, contemplating in her blue irises. There was no turning back. Elena was offering the Queen a deal that was too good to refuse. Whether or not she saw that was another question. “Ignoring that the man looks so much like Cailin—my recently dead husband if you’ll recall,” Elena resisted rolling her eyes but that was frowned upon in royalty. “my main fear is he will govern like Cailin as well.” The two men may look alike, Elena saw that now, she knew they would not rule the same. Cailin was not the warrior Alistair was, Alistair had seen the destruction of war, not the beauty of it. He respected his peers and always followed strategy. The man may wear his heart on his sleeve, but he never trounces off into battle for simple _glory_. He did it because of what’s _right_.

“But…” she continued, “it is true that Alistair has Theirin blood. To some this is more important even than practical considerations.” The queen was trying to break the Warden’s steely disposition, Elena could sense that. Weakness is easily broken down in the court, but this was not Elena’s first time playing the Game. She maintained her cool and calm demeanor. “A union might be considered a compromise, but…” she bored the full weight of her eyes on the warden, pushing harder than before, “is this something Alistair even desires?” Elena could have laughed. Certainly not. But for the sake of his people, his country? With the right words being said, she could certainly convince him of such. And that is what Elena told Anora. The queen nodded thoughtfully but maintained her expression and spoke slowly, “Are you so truly eager to pawn the lad off on me, anyway? I get the feeling you two might be…” she trailed off. One of the most prominent shots to her mask.

Elena sucked in a breath and crushed her pain with the air and spoke smoothly, “I’m not eager no,” the first words she’d said from her heart, “but I still think it’s a good idea.” Anora listened thoughtfully, no bit of sympathy for the soundlessly breaking woman in front of her. The political game had taken away her heart from the light. Any feelings Anora has on the matter are locked away farther than Elena’s.

“I see. So be it then.” The confirmation had the atmosphere tense. With those words, Elena felt her tight grip on the only person she loved, loosen. “Let me say this; if Alistair is willing to stand back and allow me to continue governing this nation, then I would be willing to let him be my king.” That blow, the first mention of it, him being _hers_. While she knew Anora ruling would be best, Elena knew Alistair would learn and become just a strong king as his queen. Elena curtseyed and began to take her leave. However, something deep inside made her halt just before the door; not the grey warden making decisions for the future of her country, but a woman who loved a man she would not have again.

Hesitantly, Elena turned back to Anora and let only a hint of the true pain she felt come through on her face, “Can I make a request?” The queen nodded once. “Please,” she nearly choked on the word, “please just take care of him,” Elena managed to smirk through the burning of her soul, “he can be a handful.”

Surprisingly, Anora matched her smile, “if he’s anything like Cailin…its nothing I can’t handle.” It was not the answer she wanted to hear but it was the one she received. Elena nodded and walked through the door.


	3. Alistair

Elena wished someone else could speak with Alistair about marrying Anora. The man was as stubborn as a mule, she knew if anyone could convince him this was the right option, it was her.

She left him a few hours to simmer down while they ran errands around Denerim, tying up some loose ends before the Landsmeet. Leliana, Wynne, and Morrigan followed her rather silently. More than a few times Leliana stopped her to see if she was alright. While Elena knew her friend meant well, each time was a slash at her rock-hard resolve. She would not allow herself to break before she knew her fate was sealed.

The day was tiring and seemed to go on forever, but the sun eventually set on the Arl’s Estate. Elena knew she could no long hold off the conversation and went to look for Alistair. It wasn’t hard to figure out he’d gone outside for some fresh air. There was a balcony that overlooked the market square. A few lanterns were lit and Denerim still bustled despise the arrival of the night. He was out of armor, instead wore plain brown tunic and trousers.

She took a deep breath and waited a few moments before knocking on the glass. He turned to her, whatever expression he had on before was now replaced with a guarded glower. It hurt her more than she ever knew; he’d never had reason to mistrust her until now.

“Can I join you?” She asked.

He didn’t say anything, another blow, but stepped aside so she could stand next to him. The night air was crisp and chilly. It never bothered her though with growing up in Ferelden. A young couple was walking beneath them. The man had the woman on his arm, her head resting against his shoulder, laughing at something he’d said. The happiness she held in her grasp was loosening. She turned to him, and his gaze still sent her heart into a frenzy. _For Ferelden_ ¸ she told herself, _For the Wardens_.

“Can we talk?”

“It depends. Do you plan on making more of my life choices for me?” He was still angry, of course. Rightfully so. Alistair didn’t grow up as a noble. In fact, he was told his entire life he couldn’t be any farther from the crown than the lowliest peasant. Cailin’s shadow stretched across his own country, Alistair swallowed up just like everyone else.

“Alistair—”

“Do I matter to you? Or am I simply your pawn?” The accusation was a shot to her heart. Maker, she knew she deserved it.

“Of course, you matter to me,” she let the hurt leak into her voice only slightly, and as she predicted, he softened. “But you know as well as I do, Ferelden needs you.”

“Do I?!” he snapped, “You’re going to tell me that I need to become king, _marry Anora_ for the good of Ferelden. You’re the one who told me to start thinking for myself and not let people tell me what to do—”

“Because you _are_ a _king_!” She yelled. He snapped his mouth shut; eyes still angry. Elena continued, “having a warden on the throne? Do you realize what this could mean for us? What it could do for the order?” Clearly, he hadn’t thought about it. Elena knew this. “You’ve convinced yourself the only way to stop the blight is to be the best warden you can be. But there’s more. We can win this thing, don’t you see? Ferelden will follow Anora because they know her. They’ll follow you because you are Maric’s true born son. And after? You will be loved, simply because of who you are. You are not a noble, you are so much more,” Elena’s voice broke, and she turned from him, “Ferelden doesn’t need a noble on the throne or another Cailin for that matter. The throne needs you,” She whipped around and grabbed his face, pain etched across his features, “You, Alistair Theirin; a kind, passionate man, who would do anything, become anyone, to save his home. Ferelden needs that.”

He was quiet now and she dropped her hands. She poured out her inner thoughts to him, ever since he told her of his lineage. She believed Alistair was the rightful king, but she would not push him. But with Eamon’s urging, she can now see Alistair was the only one who could wear the crown. Anora would teach him the Game. She would give him an heir. A shudder passed through her. They would rule together, a strong duo, leading a strong country. This she told him, fighting to keep her voice even, just as when she was talking Anora.

When Elena finished, she waited while he processed. “What about you?” he finally said. Unshed tears were in his eyes and it took everything not to run.

“I’ll lead the Wardens and I will restore them so when the next Blight comes, we’ll be ready.”

The answer didn’t seem to satisfy him for he looked at her from under his long lashes, and asked ever so softly, “what about us?”

Elena felt her head shake slowly, ringlets of her dark curled hair brushing her cheek. The dam was about to break, and she couldn’t let him see. Still, she stood up on his tip toes and brushed her lips against his cheek. She kept her lips at his ear, “I have always loved you, and I always will.” She stepped away now, already missing the closeness, “this can’t be about us.” His eyes bored into hers, and he saw the arguments in his expression, but he didn’t fight back for once. She’d given him every good reason to marry Anora and become king. She would no longer stand in the way of his destiny. Instead, she took herself out of it. That was when Elena Cousland walked away from the only love she still had, tears falling as they did.


	4. Leliana

Elena brushed faint green powder onto her eyelids. Leliana was tightening the back of her dress. It’d been a long time since she’d visited Denerim’s court…or even been in a court. Elena finished on her makeup and sighed. It hurt her to look at her reflection. She looked as she did the year prior; when her family still lived. Her mother would brush and braid her hair up. While Eleanor loved to smack Elena’s wrist when she incessantly complained about court, Elena found out years later how much her mother loathed court.

 _“Whine anymore and they’ll hear you in Antiva,”_ she’d say. Elena felt her lips twitch sadly.

“It’s going to be interesting to see the Ferelden Court,” Leliana said absently. This brought Elena out of her revere.

Grateful for the distraction, Elena clung to conversation, “You’ve never been?” Leliana brushed through Elena’s hair now; gently.

“Not really, only Orlais. I imagine Ferelden having much less pomp and ceremony in their court.”

Elena huffed a chuckle, “There’s usually one or two brawls before the end of a day.”

Leliana also laughed, “I look forward to it.”

Elena’s smile faded, “I’ll be happy when it’s over. I don’t think I was ever meant for nobility.” Her friend was quiet then; fishbraiding Elena’s dark hair. As a finishing piece, Leliana took a flower from her own hair and placed it in the center of the updo.

“I don’t know,” she placed her hands on the woman’s shoulders, “Ferelden could always use strong, battle-proven women to lead them.” Elena tensed and looked at Leliana in the mirror. Her friend’s expression was unreadable; her usual soft and gentle nature was fading from her features. Elena didn’t have the will to argue with her. It would only make her regret her decision. Distancing herself from Alistair was hard enough, undoing that would be a waste of energy and she would have worse trials to face if things were different.

“I am not Anora,” Elena said slowly.

“You’re right,” Leliana brought her lips to her ear, “you’re better,” she whispered.

“I don’t want—”

“And neither does Alistair,” Leliana hissed. Guilt weighed heavy on Elena’s shoulders. Andraste, if there could be anyone else... She wouldn’t put him through this in any lifetime. She struggled to stop her lip from quivering. Leliana continued, “have you ever considered that those who lead best are the ones who never want to?” Elena was silent then. Finding a humble noble—let alone monarch—was hard to come by, she knew this.

“She knows more about ruling than me. The people love her.”

“They’ll love you more,” Leliana countered quickly. She clearly had this scripted out. It makes Elena wonder how long the bard had thought of this. Leliana didn’t stop talking though, “you think she’ll give him the respect he needs as a king?” Elena watched her brows furrow. Anora was a lot of things but she can’t see her not supporting Alistair in their marriage if he shows her the same. “She will walk all over him or worse….manipulate him.”

Elena tried to shrug herself from Leliana’s sudden tight grip on her shoulders, her sentence was choked in her throat when the other woman interrupted her, “she’s a snake,” Elena went still, ice in her veins. The last Cousland was shaking her head, “her father killed your family. She knew and don’t try to tell me she didn’t.” Her father’s eyes pulsed in her memory. _Pup_. She swallowed a shudder that threatened to break her. _Go_. Elena squeezed her eyes shut and trapped the tears that threatened to escape.

“My father and mother…they will see justice,” her voice was guttural; the kind her mother would smack her on the back for. It was not how a lady spoke. But she’s not a lady. She’s not a noble. Her eyes opened slowly and traveled to her necklace through the mirror; the vial was nearly black with the blood that swirled around on the inside.

No, she was not a lady.

She was a Grey Warden.

Leliana relaxed her grip deliberately and stared at her through the mirror; resolved. “They have, and they will.”

The two were silent while Elena changed into a thick bourbon colored dress with ram leather crossed over her chest. She wore riding boots underneath, despite Leliana’s protest. She kept her blades at her sides as opposed to her back. It wasn’t at all compared to the frilly nonsense garbs she used to wear to court. It was sturdy and warm; just like Ferelden.

Leliana gazed out the window while they waited for their escort to the Landsmeet.  “I thought I knew of friendship; what I had with Marjolaine.” She was quiet, expression never changing as she spoke, it was not like her gentle disposition in camp. It was the side of Leliana Elena had only seen a handful of times. “Trust is earned, it should not easily be broken. I never have to watch my back with you.”

She turned to Elena now, “I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you.” Elena stiffened at her friend’s declaration. “I know it is not meant to be.” She was frozen in place; sure, Elena had her suspicions, but she always tended to oversee very obvious things. In another life, perhaps. But her heart would always belong to one person and one person alone.

Still, the bard walked across the room and clutched the others hands. “I can’t be selfish,” Leliana’s gaze was glassy but determined. “Let me have this one request.” Elena granted her a light nod. “Be selfish. For once in your life, Elena Cousland.” Leliana clutched the woman’s face in her hands.

A tear dripped onto her fingers. Elena didn’t realize she was crying, “I can’t,” her voice broke.

“You can,” she nearly sounded like she was begging, “if not for me, then for Alistair.” A sharp knock interrupted them. The escort. Elena stepped away from her friend’s grasp and cleaned her tears with the tip of her finger, taking care not to disrupt her makeup.

“It’s time.” Elena muttered and opened the door.


	5. Loghain

Long May She Reign

Chapter 5

 

“The Warden! I’m with the Warden!”

“South Reach stands with the Grey Wardens!”

“Elena Cousland helped me personally in…a family matter.”

“Waking Seas stands with the Grey Wardens!”

“Dragon’s Peak supports Elena Cousland and the Grey Wardens!”

One by one, every noble in the room was throwing their support in for the wardens. Elena exchanged a hopeful glance with Eamon. Wulf was the only objector of the crowd. The Landsmeet was given overwhelmingly to the Wardens. Loghain grew angrier with every blow against him. Elena stepped forward, face blank, for the man did not deserve the satisfaction of her hatred, she’d won.

“The Landsmeet has spoken. Step down peacefully, Loghain.”

That was the nail in the coffin for the man raved at the so called “traitors” of the court. He rounded at everyone, bellowing about his war against the Orlesians, as if that was supposed to change their minds. He stole a few frenzied glances to Elena. He knew she’d won though he refused to stand down. He screeched at Eamon, naming him a turncoat with the rest.

“Call off your men,” Elena demanded in an even tone, “Settle this with honor.”

“Then…let us end this,” he seethed, “a warrior is made by the quality of his enemies,” he looked somewhere far away, “Maric told me that once…I wonder if its more a compliment to you or me…”

“I believe it’s a compliment to us both, my lord,” Elena could recall her father telling her very similar things. They both learned from great men, it seemed.

* * *

The Landsmeet determined the rules of the duel that would be held. Elena could duel Loghain herself or choose a champion. In everything she had endured the past few months, she was finally able to stare into the eyes of her parents’ killer and watch him die.

Her gaze found Alistair’s, she’d had trouble understanding his faces lately but, in that moment, she could read him perfectly. He needed this, to feel Loghain’s throat on his blade.

“Alistair will be my champion,” Elena called, not breaking her gaze.

Alistair, for once in his life, said nothing as he stepped forward, past Elena. She fought to keep her heart steady. Alistair facing down Loghain. Alone. It took everything not to reach for her own blade.

“Then let us test the mettle of this would-be king,” Loghain sneered.

The duel itself was carefully strategized. There was a lot of things Alistair didn’t take seriously but being a Warden was not one of them. He fought with the grace and skill of a thousand knights. Elena felt her fist tighten in her hand behind her back every time Loghain took a slash at Alistair. And at times, Loghain succeeded, but Alistair recovered.

From across the room, Elena glanced up to see Anora, top teeth gnawing at her lower lip. She was just as stressed as Elena. Their eyes met only for a moment, and one could easily mistake it for a casual stare, but she caught it; the deep anger and resentment in the queen’s expression. Elena was praying things wouldn’t get complicated. A surprised chuckle bubbled in her throat, _yeah right_.

Loghain cried out painfully. Elena’s gaze shot back to the battle. Alistair had shield bashed him and had the man at a disadvantage, kneeling. Alistair raised his sword, Anora was beginning to press forward, Elena’s heart was in her throat until Loghain croaked.

“I yield.”

There was a dead silence that spread throughout the room. Alistair still had his sword in the air. “You’ll die,” he growled.

“Wait!” Riordan’s shout made everyone jump. Alistair glared at the man as he offered Loghain his second chance at life to become a warden. A strange taste formed in the back of Elena’s throat. What was Riordan _thinking_? This man killed not just Cailin but all the wardens protecting him! Alistair took the words out of her mouth, berating Riordan for caring for quantity over quality.

Anora argued for her father’s life as well, claiming they won either way; Loghain died or the wardens gained a general. Alistair roared now and, in some way, Elena was proud of him. The passion that he so often hid from everyone else leaked out in every frustrated syllable. He was through being in the shadows. He would not be ignored. And he was right.

“He must die. There’s no other way about it,” Elena stepped forward finally, defending Alistair. He turned back to her, shooting her a grateful expression. It surprised her to see him let his guard down considering what happened between them. In her heart, she knew Alistair would forgive her someday. She was just lucky he was already beginning.

“You can’t do this!” Anora’s voice edged onto something raw, “my father may have been wrong, but he is still a hero to the people.”

Just as Elena was about to clap back, Loghain shushed her, “Anora…hush. It’s over,”

“Stop treating me like a child, this is serious!” she spoke sharply.

“Daughters never grow up Anora,” Loghain sighed, resolved, an honorable man, even in the face of adversity, “they remain six years old with pigtails and skinned knees forever.”

“Father,” she finally begged but covered her face. If Elena could erase everything Loghain done to not just her or Alistair, or the wardens…she’d feel sympathy, walk over to Anora, empathize. She knew what it was like to watch her father be executed.

But there was a difference between justice and cold-blooded murder.

“Just make it quick, son,” Loghain instructed Alistair, “I will face the Maker, and know I have regretted nothing.”

Alistair stole a glance to Elena, righteousness and revenge, thirst finally being sated swam behind his expression. Elena didn’t like it, this side of him. The sooner Loghain died, the sooner she’d be rid of it.

Alistair sucked in a breath, drawing his sword, clasping the pommel in both of his hands, “I, Alistair Theirin, in the name of his highness and my father, King Maric, charge you with high treason for the death of my brother, King Cailin and massacre of the Ferelden Grey Wardens. I sentence you, Loghain Mac Tir, to die.” Alistair wasted no time then, for nothing held him back. His sword met with Loghain’s neck and the man’s head came clear off. Anora stumbled back, falling into the arms of a few nobles, out cold.

Worried and excited murmurs erupted from the room. The crowd around Anora fanned her, talked to her, and she came to a minute or so later. Elena couldn’t tear her eyes away from Loghain though, his headless body bleeding into the cobblestone of the throne room. She was trying to feel a sense of integrity, but she felt nothing.

Bryce and Elanor Cousland were still dead. She did the same when she’d killed Rendon Howe. She stood over him, taking in the sight of his pathetic carcass, but felt empty all the same. She could kill all those in her life who ever wronged her and her family, but nothing would bring them back, justice was just a bittersweet revenge.

Then she felt eyes on her and watched Alistair, staring back at her. Her emotions reflected in his deep brown eyes. It seemed he felt something similar. Andraste, she wished she could have warned him. A few chantry sisters collected the body. Just as Elena was going to beckon Alistair, Eamon interrupted.

“So, it is decided, Alistair will take his father’s throne,” he declared.

Alistair snapped out of it then, “wait what? No! When did this get decided?” he looked around anxiously, “nobody’s decided that,” he paused, whipping his head towards Elena, “have they?”

“So much for our plan to rule together, If Alistair would rather not have the throne, I am more than willing to take it,” Anora sounded astoundingly coherant despite her very recent fainting. But then something occurred to Elena.

“You won’t rule together?”

Now Anora barked out an uncharacteristic laugh, “this man just killed my father, do you really expect me to forget that?”

“I hardly think you’re the appropriate person to mediate this, Anora,” Eamon turned to Elena, “Lady Cousland, will you help us?”

Elena’s heart slammed into her chest, former plans out the window. Alistair couldn’t be king without someone to guide him. Anora won’t marry him because he just executed her father. But the more Elena saw, the less she was fond of the power-hungry scowl Anora was glaring at her. There was no way Elena would let that woman have a throne she didn’t deserve. She only wanted power so she could have it, Ferelden be damned.

Like father, like daughter.

That epiphany in itself was like a splash of cold water to her face. Anora couldn’t be queen. Alistair could be king. He’d be lost. There would be a learning curve, but he’d be king. The people of Ferelden would love him. That much she was certain of. She’d stay by his side, teach him everything she did know about being a noble. Eventually he would take a wife and slowly, Elena would be cast aside, rightfully so. She would not stay to be a distraction to him. Yet, she would enjoy the time she had with him and cherish the memories forever…

“Alistair will be king,” Elena declared confidently. Her new plan was set into motion until she caught the regard of her dear friend.

_Be selfish. For once in your life, Elena Cousland._

There was silence in the small moments after Alistair was decreed the new king. In those moments a decision was made, not by a player of the game, not by the last blood of the Cousland line, but by a woman who loves a man.

“And I’ll rule beside him,” the words tumbled from her mouth, softer yet no less assuredly. The nobles gasped. Elena could hardly believe what she’d just done. There was still time to back out, claim it a jest—

“Really? You _will_?” Alistair sounded shocked but Elena couldn’t tell if he was happy about the decision considering she’d tried wedding him off to the daughter of his worst enemy. “This is where I wake up, usually…or everyone points and laughs because I have no clothes on…”

Elena stepped forward, wiping her mask from her face, letting not just him see her but the entire Landsmeet. “Only…if his highness would have me,” she gave him this chance. Because she loved him. Maker, she would do anything for him, even if it meant leaving and letting him rule his own way.

Yet, he also melted, all former anger and resentment clean off. He stared at her for what seemed to be the first time in days. Now he closed the space, he held out his hands and she grasped them, strong and safe, never faltering. “There was never anyone else,” he uttered quietly but so passionately. Her heart soared. It was as if he’d told her loved her all over again.

This time she would be his.

Forever.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N I never make that bitch queen. **Anora is Queen during the events of Deer Among Wolves** Yeah but she doesn't have my Allie-poo.


End file.
